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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135966">Sence nove zarje</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad_1/pseuds/Dryad_1'>Dryad_1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prout [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cycling RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2021 Paris-Nice (Cycling RPF), 2021 Tirreno-Adriatico, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:08:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135966</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad_1/pseuds/Dryad_1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I couldn't watch it, you know? It was like a bloody nightmare, history repeating itself. I was so upset and angry, I wanted to smash the bus." Wout's eyes glisten with emotion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Primož Roglič/Wout van Aert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prout [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2239275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sence nove zarje</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestineAzure87/gifts">CelestineAzure87</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a gift for CelestineAzure87 for talking to me during *another* traumatic experience that was Paris-Nice stage 8. She encouraged me to write this and initially I said I couldn't possibly do it. But I woke up today and changed my mind. So, here it is.<br/></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Primož is waiting for him in a huge hotel lobby. He's tired. Tired of travelling and tired of people looking at him, curiously pointing at him and stopping him on the streets. Ofcourse he appreciates the support, he's thankful for all the concern and all the messages of admiration he gets, but still, sometimes he wishes everyone would just leave him alone. Especially right now. He strokes his sore shoulder, exhales and waits some more.</p><p>He's only here to see him. If it was just up to Primož, he'd crawl under the covers for a week and lick his wounds. But he has to see him. It was their plan anyway, to meet midpoint between Tirreno-Adriatico and Milano-Sanremo<em>. So many inbetweens</em>, he thinks to himself and has to laugh. He likes being in Italy but hearing this upbeat language circling around him while walking the streets to the hotel, and now while waiting here in the lobby, staff and guests mingling around him, it makes him annoyed. <em>Where the fuck are they? They should be here by now. </em></p><p>The front door slides open and a group of riders in black and yellow cycling kits enter the lobby. He breathes in relief. His teammates are happy to see him, they hug him and shower him with words of encouragement and congratulations. Right, he did actually win some things this past week. Suddenly, he stands infront of him, he can see the emotion emitting from his eyes, not completely sure what it is. Excitement, longing, pain, happiness, desire, all mashed into one. Wout pulls him into a strong embrace and kisses him deeply, his hand comes up to his face, caressing the cheekbone. He doesn't care that other people are staring, he doesn't care about what they're saying. All he cares about is Primož. All he cares about is having him here, after all the turmoil that happened to him. He came here to see him and now Wout's gonna take care of him. He looks at him softly, "Come with me, baby." and he grabs his hand, heads to the elevator with him by his side.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Primož drops his backpack on the floor and lightly leans on the hotel desk. He still feels sore and uncomfortable. It's only been a few days and he knows he's gonna need more than a week to fully heal. Wout walks around the room, unzipping his jersey as he stops beside Primož, looking at him concernly, "How are you, my love?"</p><p>Primož stares at his chest, "I've told you I'm fine, I've had it a lot worse…" he feels Wout's hands on his face and looks at those dark eyes, staring at him charmingly, <em>fuck, I've missed him. </em>He wants to give him a kiss.</p><p>"I really need to take a shower, I'm all dusty and sweaty…" he runs his fingers through his thick crumpled hair, "Will you wait for a few more minutes?" his eyes sparkling, "Then I'm all yours."</p><p>Primož swallows hard and nods at him.                                           </p><p>He listens to the sound of running water in the bathroom and looks through the window. He's enjoying the sight of the rich and rolling Italian landscape. He wonders when is he gonna race here again. Autumn. Autumn is gonna be different. The water stops and he hears the man coming back to the room, pulling on clothes. The smell of lavender stirs up his senses and a pair of strong arms hugs him tightly from behind.</p><p>"You're still using my soap?"</p><p>"It reminds me of you. That's how I fool myself and my body." he hears him whisper next to his ear, "Into thinking you're here, with me… on me." A long sigh.</p><p>Primož turns and wraps his hands around his neck, his eyes starting to burn slightly, <em>no, no, no, you're not gonna cry now</em>, he takes a deep breath.</p><p>"I couldn't watch it, you know?" Wout looks at him, his forehead folded in painful memory, he pulls him closer, "It was like a bloody nightmare, history repeating itself in some way. Fuck, I was so upset and angry, I wanted to smash the bus…" his eyes glisten with emotion.</p><p>"Wout… I… um."</p><p>"You should have just abandoned! Why didn't you stop? You were injured. You didn't have to prove anything to those idiots. They all knew you're head and shoulders above them! I mean, who would wanna win like that? With yellow jersey crashing twice, having to change the bike, having to chase…" Wout's chest is pacing in short uneasy breaths. "That would never have happened if I was there with you!! If you just followed my lines on the descent. If you just stayed with me! And I'd always bring you back to the peloton! Fuck, those guys were useless…"</p><p>"Wout, no, calm down." Primož lays his head on Wout's shoulder, "You weren't there with me, and that was all my loss. There's nothing I could have done."</p><p>"Well, you're gonna have to stop crashing!!" his voice turns angry now, "Because... I'm not gonna be watching that kind of bullshit anymore!" he shakes him lightly, "Did you hear what I said? No more crashing! And giving me a fucking heart attack…"</p><p><em>God, I love him. I love him so fucking much,</em> Primož caresses his neck, his hair.</p><p>"I'm sorry…"</p><p>Voice softer now, "Does it hurt a lot? Is it really bad?"</p><p>"You know my pain treshhold is high. That's why I wanted to continue, finish the race…"</p><p>He raises his head now and looks at him, Wout's face still upset, still agitated. "I was so proud of you this week." he smiles at him brightly, "Man," Primož shakes his head in disbelief and admiration, "Wout, you can do anything, you know that, right?"</p><p>"Meh, I was second…" he plays the disappointment but he's beaming with pride.</p><p>Primož traces his lips, wants to kiss him again and then remembers something.</p><p>"Oh, what the fuck was that on the podium?"</p><p>Wout furrows his eyebrows, confused, "What was…?"</p><p>"Yeah, you and Tadej, looking at each other like that, what was that?" his voice serious and annoyed, he stares at him in question.</p><p>"Primož, I don't think it was…." Wout tries to hold back a smile as the look on Primož's face is not something he's ever seen before. "We were just… trying to position ourselves for the photo, I mean, it was nothing…"</p><p>"That guy…" Primož stares past him, his eyes getting darker. "Who the hell does he think he is??! Is he's gonna win every race now, every fucking race I've won before him, is he gonna repeat after me, everything I've done, everything I've won way harder? What's next, stealing my partner?" Wout stares at him in shock, "He wants to take everything from me. Even you!" His face turns pale now, unable to hide the pain, the disillusion.</p><p>"Primož, you guys are friends, what the hell are you talking about?"</p><p>"I saw how he looked at you…" voice barely audible.</p><p><em>He was jealous</em>, Wout realizes and he wants to grab and kiss him like a madman, the thought of it making his chest explode, making him aroused instantly. His body fibers are tingling as he holds him in his arms, looking at him being upset like this.</p><p>"You don't need to worry about that." Wout cracks a smile now, holding his jawline firmly, "There's no one who can take me away from you. Sure, he's winning now. But so what? He's still miles from being like you. And he'll never be you. And he'll never get to have me. Be sure of that…" he looks at him lovingly and their eyes meet, they lock their lips together, kiss each other with urgency.</p><p>"Fuck, you look hot when you're jealous like that…" Wout whispers as he passionately kisses his neck, his hands travelling down to his waist, to his backside. He feels him jump up a little. "What is it?" a concern look.</p><p>"Um, it hurts over there."</p><p>"Fuck, I'm sorry… I forgot. He lands a few more kisses, pushing his hair back. "Let me see it."</p><p>"See what?" Primož pretends like he didn't understand.</p><p>"Your wounds…" he bites his lower lip and Primož avoids the daring stare.</p><p>"No. You can't see. It's all in bandages. And you've seen enough on TV. The whole world has." He averts his eyes in shame and Wout grabs his hands forcefully.</p><p>"Please…" kissing his cheeks, his ears, breathing faster now, "Let me see, I'll be gentle."</p><p>Primož peers at him weakly and lets go of his hands.</p><p>Wout sits on the chair and pulls him closer, he grabs the band of his pants and slowly pulls them down. Primož shakes as the chills cover his bare legs. Wout caresses his thighs and looks up at him, "It's alright, baby." He takes off his underwear and lets it fall down to his ankles. He marvels at the sight of him, no shame whatsoever. Wout learned how to admire his lover's body without feeling guilty or ashamed about it. He turns around on both sides of his hips and examines the bandages covering him, he follows the fabric with his palm, barely touching, he lands a few long kisses on each side and hears Primož breathe deeply. Wout's hands on his thighs again, he stares at his crotch now, unable to stop his shallow breathing, the saliva gathering in his mouth. He slides down to his knees, feels the man's eyes on him and he could swear they're bagging for something now. He looks up and he was right, he sends him a sly smile. Wout takes him into his hand and feels hardness rising him up immediately. He feels the tension forming in his own pants. Now he tastes him carefully, sliding his tongue up and down the shaft, breath hot and heavy on him and he feels Primož tense up. He kisses him, massaging him with one hand and sliding the other hand to his abdomen, tracing the lines of his muscles then resting it below his hip bone. This body is making him crazy.</p><p>"I don't know why you were so upset about Tadej and I looking at each other," he utters inbetween kissing and licking, he knows he's torturing him now. "I mean, the way half of the peloton looks at you all the time…" a dramatic pause, "I should be the one who's jealous."</p><p>"What are you talking about?…" Primož barely manages to open his mouth, form the words. </p><p>"Don't play dumb… You know they want to have you." a stronger kiss now, a firmer grip, "They want to fuck you. I know, because some of them even had the nerve to tell me to my face."</p><p>Fever consumes Primož's head, his chest, his stomach. He weaves his fingers into Wout's hair, "Wout, please…"</p><p>"I'm not sharing." a deadly serious look up now, "You're mine. And mine only." he takes him deep into his mouth and Primož lets out a moan, grabs him tighter, <em>fucking hell. </em>Wout does this like a pro now, he's done it so many times he knows exactly how to touch him, how to pull, to mould, to caress, to slither his tongue around him. He makes him pant and quiver in his hands, he makes the enjoyment drag.</p><p>"Oh," he lets it fall out of his mouth, "And if I ever see you smile at Sam Bennett like that at the start line…"</p><p>Primož's eyes open wide, his chest heaving in anticipation, "Wha… he's married!"</p><p>"Whatever…" Wout continues to work on Primož's swollen and sensitive member as it's pulsing in agony. He gets aggressive now, and Primož can't handle it anymore. He whimpers in a wave of deep emotion, of pleasure seizing every little cell in his body, he gasps for air as he sighs loudly to the ether that's lingering high above them now. Wout swallows his cum and caresses him for a few seconds, his eyes misty, his jaw sore in exhaustion. He's touched by the reaction of the man above him, the need for his protection lies heavy on his chest as he stands up slowly and gets pulled in his embrace. They both breathe with lightness now, holding tight as they feel gentle relief filling their tired and beat up bodies.</p><p>"How do you feel?" Wout mumbles in his hair.</p><p>"So much better, so good." Primož kisses his temple. "You know, maybe France is just cursed for me…"</p><p>Wout looks at him sternly, tilting his head to the side, "Don't be ridiculous." He finds his lips and leans on him, dreading the hour he'll have to let him go. Primož feels the hardness in Wout's pants, he looks down and then rises his eyebrow to him, "It's your turn now. What do you want?" he asks softly. Wout glances at the bed, "Couche-toi, mon cœur."</p>
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